Snape glared at Blake, his teeth clenched tightly. "If you dare..."
Blake shrugged, his tone as infuriating as ever. "Feelings can't be forced, you know. Some people love but never get it, while others don't love but still receive it."
Snape clutched his chest as if struck. He took several deep breaths before regaining his composure. "If that's your intention... then you'd best check your food and drink from now on. I have plenty of ways to make you... useless." His gaze flicked downward.
Blake caught the look and suddenly felt a chill in a very specific place.
Lockhart had always been popular. Every day, he received mountains of fan mail. During Harry's detention, Lockhart had him reply to letters, a task that took hours. It was proof of his overwhelming fan base.
Lately, however, the letters had become fewer. Worse, among the usual praises and criticisms, there were unexpected messages—
"I'm gay too! I never expected you to be. That's great! I've admired you for so long..."
Lockhart recoiled in horror, then angrily hurled the letters into the fireplace. "Damn it! Rita Skeeter! I won't let you get away with this!"
He had no idea why Rita was targeting him, but that wasn't the issue now. He needed a way to defend himself. Unfortunately, the Daily Prophet had shut him out, and in the small world of wizarding media, it was the dominant force. Other publications wouldn't risk offending it by publishing Lockhart's side of the story.
To make matters worse, his attempts to take legal action against Rita had been met with silence from the Ministry of Magic. Time was slipping away, and so were his fans.
Slumping to the floor, he muttered, "There has to be a way..."
Then, as if struck by lightning, his eyes brightened. "Blake! He has to help me! I gave him a development plan—he owes me!"
Without hesitation, Lockhart bolted from his office, forgetting to even shut the door.
That evening, Blake wrapped himself tightly in his enchanted cloak and stepped into the snow-covered Hogwarts grounds, making his way to the Forbidden Forest. His boots crunched over the frozen path.
"This weather is unbearable," he grumbled. He despised winter—not just the cold, but the fact that senior students, who usually dressed more freely in summer, now covered up completely.
Making sure no one was watching, he slipped into the forest.
A few minutes later, he heard a soft rustling. Pushing aside a frost-laden bush, he spotted a group of skeletal creatures—Thestrals. Not everyone could see them, only those who had witnessed death.
"Do you often come here to feed them?" he asked.
"Yes," Luna Lovegood replied, turning to him with a dreamy smile. "You're the first person who hasn't asked why I can see them."
She pulled another piece of meat from her satchel and tossed it to a young Thestral.
"Has anyone else seen you do this?" Blake asked.
"Professor Kettleburn. I thought he'd deduct points, but instead, he taught me how to feed them properly. He even gave me a book about Thestrals the next day."
Blake leaned against a tree. "Probably because Ravenclaws rarely take interest in magical creatures. Most enthusiasts are from Hufflepuff—including Kettleburn himself."
Luna tilted her head. "You might be right."
Blake's eyes drifted down to her bare feet. "Why aren't you wearing shoes? Aren't you cold?"
"I can't find them," she admitted. "It's strange. I always seem to lose them. But I found a spell to keep my feet warm."
Blake observed the faint magical aura around her feet. "You're using a heating charm from a cooking book, aren't you?"
"How did you know?" Luna asked in surprise.
"Your feet aren't food. Overuse of that spell can damage human skin."
Glancing at her soles with the Eye of Truth, he saw early signs of frostbite.
He tapped a nearby tree, and a branch sprouted into a sturdy wooden chair. Luna watched in awe. "That chair just grew from the tree! Can you teach me this magic?"
Blake scratched his nose. "Probably not."
She didn't seem disappointed, instead marveling at the chair. Meanwhile, Blake gently took her feet in his hands and cast a simple healing spell. Luna shivered as warmth spread through her toes, followed by an itchy tingling sensation.
"The discomfort means the healing is working."
He flicked his wand. "Accio shoes!"
Moments later, a pair of shoes zoomed toward them and landed in the snow.
"What spell was that?" Luna asked, eyes sparkling.
"A summoning charm. Want to learn?"
"Yes! If I master this, I'll never lose my shoes again!"
Blake chuckled. "Actually, I also cast a spell so you won't lose them in the first place."
Luna stared at her shoes. "What kind of spell?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
Feeling warmth in her feet for the first time in hours, she smiled. "Thank you, Blake."
"You're welcome. By the way, I wanted to borrow something from you."
"What is it?"
"The latest edition of The Quibbler."
Luna brightened instantly. "Of course!"
She eagerly handed him a copy from her satchel. As she continued feeding the Thestrals, Blake sat back and read. When he finished, Luna asked, "What do you think?"
"It's unique, Luna. I like it. But most people might not find it interesting because there's no proof or stories behind these creatures."
"How can we get proof?"
"I know a spell that can reveal hidden creatures. I can summon them, and you can photograph them."
Luna's eyes widened. "That would be amazing! The Quibbler will finally have real evidence!"
"That's the plan. Also, I want to meet your dad."
"You do?" she asked excitedly.
"Yes. I'd love to discuss The Quibbler with him."
Luna clapped her hands. "Come to my house for Christmas!"
Blake grinned. "Write to your dad first. If he agrees, I'll take a leave of absence and visit."
"It's a deal!" Luna beamed.
Blake watched her happy expression and suddenly felt like a con artist deceiving a little girl. Just like Tom Riddle...
As Blake returned to the castle, he spotted Lockhart rushing through the hallway. The moment Lockhart saw him, he practically pounced.
"Blake! You have to save me!"
Lockhart breathlessly explained his predicament. Blake listened with an amused smile.
"So, you need a media outlet to defend yourself?"
Lockhart nodded desperately.
"Ever heard of The Quibbler?" Blake asked, smirking.
Lockhart blinked in confusion. "The... what?"
Blake chuckled. "You will soon."
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